


The Island

by tarmetiel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Death is everywhere, Mild Angst, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:45:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7013374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarmetiel/pseuds/tarmetiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man stood at the shore, watching. Waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Merlin, etc. etc...
> 
> Thank you to Saentorine for betaing. Any mistakes are my own.

 A man stood at the shore, watching. Waiting. His chain mail was dulled by the mist; his pauldron shone in contrast, highlighting his shoulders that lay under the vibrant red cape draped around him. He stood with one hand resting on his sword hilt, his leather gauntlets folded neatly in his worn belt next to his sword. The other hand hung loosely at his side, sometimes to run over his face in worry, other times to tuck his rich brown hair behind his ear. 

He was the first in this place, but he would not be the last. He must wait for the others. He didn’t know how long it would take, or how many were coming, but he would wait for them. It was a quiet place, where he waited; the silence hanging in the air was as heavy as the dense mist that drifted around him. Occasionally a breeze flitted by, swirling the mist into twisted shapes of memories gone by. The man ignored those shapes – he knew now not to look towards them.

The torment was too much, when he looked at them last.

His gaze was locked on the horizon, where lake met mist met cloudy sky. His boots dug into the sandy, damp beach as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, readjusting the red cloak on his shoulders. The beach was small, curling into a protective cove. Behind him the beach gave way to a meadow, from which rose a large hill that was almost a mountain, upon which leafy trees proudly displayed their branches, wildflowers burst through in glades, and a lone temple coiled through the slopes. At the crest, placed prominently, stood an open air pavilion. The stone columns, ivy starting to creep up their bases, held a graceful dome.

The man did not stand admiring the scenery, however. This was not a job to take lightly, for much relied on him. His eyes widened by a fraction. Something was happening, he could hear it.

 _…for a moment...I didn’t think I would win…_ Elyan’s last words, soft and shaking, drifted over the lake.

Screams of sorrow, of pain, and of loss followed. He could feel their grief keenly, making his own deeper.

A second man emerged from the water slowly, head and shoulders drifting upwards out of the dark water, walking out of the lake as if he had all the time in the world. His chain mail and cloak looked fresh, dry the moment they hit air. Purposefully, he joined the first man on the shore.

“I’m sorry and yet glad to see you here, Elyan.” The first man reached out, smiling, and grabbed the dark knight’s forearm, giving it a shake. He was quickly pulled into a hug.

“Lancelot, I should have known I’d see you again.” They stepped back from each other, Elyan gazing around. There was something in the corner of his eye. Something in the mist.

Lancelot clapped his friend on the shoulder. “You saved Gwen. I thank you with all my heart for that. She is doing well, I hear.”

“She has grown into quite a Queen, though I am not sure how well she is.” He paused, blinking. He almost saw something in the mist. “She misses you. We all miss you.”

“I know. I hear her sometimes.” A sad grin flicked across his face as his eyes shut tightly.

“You hear her?” Elyan was distracted from his searching at that comment. “That makes no sense, Lance.”

Lancelot looked towards the lake once again, his gaze soft, and a small smile playing around his lips. “Listen, and you will hear them all.”

 _Elyan, I should have saved her. She was my wife, my responsibility._ Arthur’s voice, guilt ridden.

 _I was made to rescue maidens from a tower – it should have been me. It should have been me, not him._ Gwaine’s, harsh with emotion.

 _Lancelot, Find Elyan. Take care of our friend. It’s my fault he’s dead. All my fault._ Merlin, convinced this death fell on him.

“I hear them.” Elyan blinked rapidly. The voices in his head were those of his friends, their emotions strong, and their grief deep. But where was the voice of his sister? “What…what are we doing here, Lance? Where are we?”

“Waiting.” Lance ignored the second question, turning away from the hills and trees near them and squaring his shoulders toward the lake.

“For what?”

“Arthur will need us again. We must wait for him. Until then, all we can do is listen.”

Elyan stared at Lance for a moment. Then turned to look around him. “Who else is here?” He stepped towards the pathway. The mist swirled around him, forming a shadow of a shape.

“Don’t look too deep into the mist, Elyan.” Lance’s voice was heavy. “It will tease you with memories past, and twist them so you barely remember the truth.” The man paused, then laid his hand on Elyan’s shoulder and turned his friend around to face him. “The magic here is dying, and for that reason it has become…unpleasant.”

Elyan’s face was pale. “So what I saw – that was just magic.” He took a deep breath, then another. He nodded, and the two men turned from the island towards the lake. Elyan’s eyes blinked furiously.

“It took me some time to ignore the visions.” Lancelot offered.

Elyan nodded sharply.

 

* * *

 

 

Two men stood at the shore, gazing outward to the lake. Waiting. Waiting for others to join them, while desperately hoping it would take as long as possible. The island continued on quietly while they waited, the silence hanging in the air heavily, punctured only by their small talk of what they heard. A breeze would drift by, swirling the mist around them. Elyan soon learned to ignore the terror that hid itself in the mist – the visions of memories mashed with could-have-beens that were impossible now being warped in eddies of the wind, teasing and tormenting – and would close his eyes to listen as hard as he could.

 _Lancelot, how are you? I miss you. Oh, God, I miss you._ Guinevere’s sweet voice swept in with the breeze.

 _What should I do? What should I do…_ Arthur’s mantra, the undertone of worry plain.

 _Lance, I need your advice about Gwaine…_ Perceval’s strong timber, questions floating in the swirls of the breeze.

 _Elyan, I’m in love with him! It was never like this with anyone else._ Gwaine’s brisk energy spinging over the lake.

 _I hope you two have found each other th_ _ere. I hope you’re happy. But, Gods, I miss you both. It’s not the same without you. Either of you._ Merlin, the strongest voice, keeping a fairly constant chatter of their travels.

They waited. The island never changed. The leaves were as green, the trees were as proud, the mist was as heavy. Sometimes the knights spoke of their friends, sometimes they stayed silent. Never sleeping, never hungry, always waiting.

 _I’ve failed…_ Gwaine’s voice, normally loud or energetic, was weak and soft. Sorrowful.

 _No. No you haven’t. Gwaine? Gwaine!_ Perceval was in shock, was crying out with more than his voice, but with his whole heart.

A man burst from the water, shattering the silence. He flailed for a couple moments, bobbing down below the water, until he found his footing. He swung his long hair out of his face, and looked up at the shore.

 _No. No he can’t. I need him. He can’t be…_ Perceval’s voice was a mere whisper, broken.

"I heard you coming, friend.” Lance extended his arm out, grasping Gwaine’s hand with an effort to pull him to shore.

Gwaine’s hand clasped automatically, but there was no thought behind it. He looked around wildly, confused. “I can’t be here. I need to go back. They need me. Perce – Arthur needs me. I betrayed him. I messed it all up. I can’t be here with you – I can’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.” He was babbling. His roguish face was pale, his eyes wide and muddled, and his hands shook. He stood, up to his shins in water, Lance holding on to his arm as if he was going to jump in. Gwaine looked at the island, then at the lake he had emerged from. His gaze did not waver from the rippling water, even as he continued to mutter under his breath.

Elyan stood at the shore, unsure of his friend. He hadn’t heard any of what Gwaine was talking about, but the look Lance was giving their fellow knight some of the rambling was true. “Gwaine. Gwaine, come sit here. Take a breath.”

Lance guided their friend up to the shore, holding him upright. When Lance released his grip on Gwaine’s arm, Gwaine sat heavily in the sand. Hunching over, Gwaine buried his face in his hands. “I messed up. I messed up.” Over and over he repeated, half choking on the words.

Elyan looked at his friend, then at Lance. He listened hard, but heard only whispers of his friends in the outside world. He felt useless. Sitting next to Gwaine, he wrapped a strong arm around the grieving man’s shoulders.

Lancelot turned his face away from the two knights. “Gwaine, listen. Listen hard. Listen for them.”

The muttering stopped, and Gwaine raised his head. His eyes were leaking desperate tears.

 _No. No no no, you can’t be dead. No. Gwaine wake up for me. Gwaine. No. I love you. Stay with me. Please, please…Gwaine…_ Perceval’s broken, sobbing voice wandered through the mist to them.

Gwaine bolted upright, onto his feet and striding towards the lake before the other two men could register the words they heard. “Gwaine! You must stay here!” Elyan shouted after him. Lance raced to put himself between Gwaine and the lake.  Elyan grabbed him by the shoulders from behind, trying to hold him back. “You can’t cross over again. You have to stay here.”

“No! No. I need to get back. He needs me!”

“You’re needed here. We have to wait for Arthur. He will need us soon.” Lance was pushing Gwaine bodily back up the beach, Elyan hauling him up from behind. 

There were no more words that they could hear, only the sound of someone who was past words in his grief.

“No. No no no…” the sound Gwaine made was almost a whimper, pleading to the skies above. With a quiet sob, the fight left him – he sagged against Lance, catching the two men off guard.

Clasping the Gwaine’s shoulder, Lance softly said, “He loves you greatly, Gwaine, but you are needed here now. Wait, and listen. You will see him again.”

Gwaine took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Building his walls up. He righted himself, squaring his shoulders. He pushed himself out of arm’s reach of the knights, and looked towards the water. “I will see him again. Right.” Swinging his hair out of his eyes, he turned towards Lancelot and Elyan with a grimace. His shaking hand ran down his face. “So we’re waiting – what for?”

Elyan glanced at Lance, hoping he’d give more information now that another friend was here. Lance, seeing that the fight had left Gwaine if only for a moment, turned his full attention to the lake. “Arthur is dying. I can hear him. I can hear Merlin. We are needed to protect him. He will come here, on the brink of death, and we must protect him until he is needed again.”

“Yes, well, where is _here_ , exactly?” Gwaine asked severely. “And what do you mean that Arthur is dying?”

Lance ignored Gwaine, and closed his eyes in concentration. The two other knights looked at him, concern in their faces, and a considerable amount of anger radiating from one of them. Elyan closed his eyes as well, trying to hear what Lance was hearing. “I can’t hear it, Lance. How do you know?”

“I’ve been here for a long time, Elyan. I’ve heard things over the years.”

Gwaine and Elyan both looked guilty at that comment, knowing of his sacrifice. They stood next to Lance, and began to wait. It was not long before all three heard it.

 _Something I’ve never said to you before…Thank you…_ Arthur’s voice was weak, but his love was plain.

 _Arthur. No. Arthur! Stay with me…no! Arthur!_ Merlin’s voice, still so strong, clanged over the lake in his pain. His roar shook the trees, his anguish made the beach shiver.

Lance opened his eyes. “He’s coming. We must prepare the way for him.”


	2. Two

The lone boat drifted to the misty shore. Moving slowly, but deliberately, it gently struck the sandy beach with a dull _whumph_. The thud of footfalls joined the echo of waves breaking softly on shore, growing louder as they neared the boat. Hands pulled it higher on shore. Voices murmured, but the knights ignored them – focused only on their task.

The three men surround the small boat, heads bowed. Their cloaks moved silently in the breeze. If any of them saw tears in the other men’s eyes no one spoke of it. After a moment, they all looked up and nodded. It was time.

_Take care of Arthur. Take care of my – our – King._ Merlin’s voice rang through the mist as if he was next to them.

King Arthur was raised from his resting place in silence. Gwaine and Elyan stood on either side of their king, kneeling in the shallow water to reach under him and grip each other’s wrists. As they stood, they lifted their king between them. With Lance to lead, the two knights carried Arthur up the island’s hills, through old temples, small woodlands, and glades. They carried their king to the highest point of the island, where, under a stone carved pavilion, sat a smooth, rectangular, stone bier. Engraved upon the sides were strange symbols and words, none of which could be made out properly.

Lancelot paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. He then removed his red cloak and folded it carefully into a small rectangle. Placing the folded mass at one end of the bier, he motioned for the two men. They placed their king reverently on the bier, carefully situating his head on the makeshift pillow.

The knight bowed his head over his king’s, speaking softly, “It is too early for you to be here, my friend.”

A voice choked out, “It was my fault, Lance. I betrayed him. I –“

“Gwaine, it was no one’s fault. This was going to happen, we all knew this.” said Lance, softly.

“We knew he would die but not so soon. Not now. His work wasn’t done.” Elyan spoke quietly.

A sigh, then “It was to be this way Elyan. The way that fate was woven was not kind. That is why we are here. That is why we will protect him. He will rise again, and he will need us all.”

“Why won’t he wake? We did. We were fine. We are in our nice, polished armor and can have conversations with people who are still alive apparently.” Gwaine’s voice was harsh with emotion.

“Merlin sent him here. He didn’t die like we did. He needs time to heal. This is the only place for him to do that.” Lance paused. “I have no idea why we came the way we did, but maybe one day we will find out. It is not a time to question why, Gwaine.”

With a silent look of assurance, the three men split off – two standing guard for their king, and one traveling down the path towards the shore. He would wait, he would listen.

 

* * *

 

It seemed forever, waiting on the shore. There were precious few who were to come to the island – it was important that they would be greeted. At first it was hard to listen for Gwaine and Elyan, but as time stretched on listening became easier.

_Morning. I miss you. Leon has been working us knights hard…it’s been three years since I’ve seen your face, and God help me I’m afraid I’ll forget it._ Perceval, checking in every morning, going over his day, sending his love.

_I don’t know how long I can hold together for all of them. I’m cracking. Help me, Arthur._ Leon, sometimes desperate for an ear to bend, being strong for so many others.

_Where is Merlin? We need him. I need him. This crown is becoming a weight, I need him here._ Guinevere, strong and yet sad, asking for counsel.

_How is Arthur doing? I trust you’re taking care of him. Gods, I miss him. Don’t tell him I didn’t go back to Camelot…he’d be upset with me, I’m sure. But you lot know…you know I can’t go back there now._ Merlin, voice as clear as ever, but with bitterness and anger lining his words.

When Gwaine, walking slowly down the path towards the beach, felt his chest ache – his first indication of pain since the death of Arthur – he knew without listening what was about to happen. Straining to hear anything, he raced towards the shore.

_Gwaine. Gwaine, help me._ The voice was winded, confused. Becoming weaker.

Gwaine stumbled down the path onto the beach, hoping it wasn’t who he thought it was and yet wanting that man to be with him desperately.

A man surged from the calm lake, taking a deep breath before sliding under the water again. Without preamble, Gwaine plunged in to the water to grab him. Gwaine’s hand clasped the huge, uncovered bicep of the man, and dragged him up towards air. When the large man found his footing, his gaze snapped to the smaller man’s instantly. He looked how Gwaine remembered him, but older: his chainmail sleeveless, his bracers worn but cared for, his red cape clinging to his broad shoulders, his face kind.

“Gwaine.” The only thing that needed to be said. Perceval ran his hand through Gwaine’s hair, stopping to cradle the back of his lover’s head. His other hand found its natural spot in the hollow of Gwaine’s lower back. He started moving them towards the beach unconsciously.

“Perce.” Breathless, Gwaine’s hands were retracing the familiar path of chest and jawline. He was being walked backward through the shallow water, towards the shore, but he didn’t notice those details. He noticed that Percy’s eyes looked haggard, and there were more worry lines around his eyes and mouth than last Gwaine saw. They were fading slowly, the island’s magic washing away the effect of time, but Gwaine’s heart ached with guilt nonetheless.

They pressed their bodies as closely as they could with chain mail on. Drinking each other in, they stood still in the misty silence. Unknowing of who leaned in first, their lips met. The kiss was gentle, slow, cherishing. Gwaine broke away, kissing along Perce’s jawline, down his throat, and finally nuzzling into his nape. Perceval bowed his head lower, whispering into Gwaine’s ear all the things he wished he could’ve said over the years.

“I ought to have guessed this would happen.” Elyan’s voice came out of nowhere, and the two men froze guiltily mid-embrace. “I hate it when Lance is right.”

“Sorry Elyan. I couldn’t help myself.” Perceval grinned crookedly over Gwaine’s head.

“There used to be a day when you had self-control there, Perce. I’m assuming it went by the wayside the more time you spent with this guy.” Elyan’s grin was crooked as he nodded towards Gwaine.

“Hey! I resent that.” Gwaine mock-glared over his shoulder.

“I’m only commenting on what I see.” Elyan couldn’t repress the smile on his face. He extended a hand to Perceval. “Welcome, Perce.”

Unweaving himself from Gwaine’s hold, Perceval returned Elyan’s handshake. Elyan nodded for the two men to head inland. “It’s my watch. Take him to Arthur and Lance.” He paused. “What brought you here, Perce? We’d heard nothing of a battle.”

Perceval’s smile faded. “An attack on the Queen. Bandits.” He paused, grimacing, “Leon got her out in time, though.”

“Why do I have a feeling that isn’t the last of the story, Perce?” Gwaine nudged the larger man with his shoulder, who in turn shrugged his massive shoulders, looking self-conscious.

The two men walked inland, murmuring to each other. Elyan turned from them and stood watch over the shore, listening hard.

_He finally got his death wish. God help him, he took out at least twenty of the bastards. Went down like a hero._ Leon’s voice was shaky, wretched, and yet carrying a hint of amazement.

_Elyan, Lancelot. Take care of him, he did a great service to us all today._ Guinevere’s voice, pleading but still strong, full of sadness and hope.

_I felt the death of Perceval. Is he alright? Looking after you lot now, I’m sure? I expect Gwaine will be glad to see him. Not that you all won’t be as well. How is Arthur doing?_ Merlin, bitter and guilty, worried about all of them.

The two men walked along the path slowly, closely, with their hands solidly intertwined.

“So.” Perceval’s voice was warm, rumbling in his chest.

Gwaine looked up at Perceval, his smile crooked and wide. “So.” His tone was teasing.

Perceval’s eyes found Gwaine’s. There was a challenge hidden in those blue depths. They stared into each other’s eyes, neither of them moving an inch except for the odd twitch of their lips. Gwaine broke first. “Yes, yes…I heard you. Every day, I heard you. Is that what you want to know?” He made a face. “I’m the guy who walks away from the others when I start to hear you, and can’t even pretend that I’m listening to anyone else while you’re talking. I –” he was cut off mid-speech by Perce’s large hard covering his mouth.

Perce waited a moment, to see if Gwaine would really stop talking, then his smile broadened. “I knew you could hear me.” And with that, he replaced his hand with his mouth, and proceeded to back them up to a nearby tree. They would meet with Lance later.

 

* * *

 

Now with four men to protect their king, the knights did their shifts in twos. It helped ease the crushing silence of the mist, the teasing presences found therein, and the timelessness of the island. They all listened as hard as they could. More would come. They knew that years were passing, but could not feel them. The island remained the same as always. Just as green, just as gloomy, never changing into night or day but remaining neither one nor the other.

Lance stood steadfast on the beach, listening. Elyan stood near him, eyes closed to help him concentrate. Suddenly, there was an uprising of voices – screams. Lance’s eyes widened, his face draining of color. A whispered “no” flew out of his mouth. Elyan was a beat behind him, but couldn’t voice the emotion rising up in his chest.

_No. She can’t be. No!_ Leon’s voice was trembling, shock lacing his words like poison.

The lake stirred. Out of the dark depths rose a woman. She walked slowly through the water, her hands clasped in front of her. Guinevere, dressed in an embroidered bodice, plain blouse, and simple skirt. Her hair, grey streaks slowly fading to brown, danced around her shoulders, half up. She calmly looked at her new surroundings, and laid eyes on her brother. Her face lit up, and she rushed the rest of the way out of the water into his open arms.

“Elyan! Oh, I am so glad to see you again.” She hugged him tightly.

Elyan, words stuck in his throat, just held his sister. He pulled back, taking her appearance in. She looked as he remembered her, but something was different – he couldn’t place it.

Gwen stilled in his arms. Elyan followed her gaze, then let her go completely. She had locked eyes with Lancelot.

“My queen.” Lance’s voice was barely above a murmur.

“Lancelot.” Tears pricked her eyes, she blinked frantically to clear them. A small smile graced her lips. “I knew you would be here.”

He smiled crookedly. “I’m glad I’m here, then.”

Silence fell between them, both smiling at the other. Elyan cleared his throat, hiding his smile as they jumped – apparently they had forgotten him. “Well then. Lance, do you want to take her up the hill? Show her the sights?”

Lance’s glare could have killed Elyan if his friend hadn’t already been dead, but the knight smiled when looking towards his queen. He offered his arm to Gwen with a small bow. They spoke softly to each other, mostly of the landscape, walking their way up through the woods and glades. Elyan turned towards the lake once again, and closed his eyes.

_It was just a ride through the country. Why did her horse spook? It was just an accident. Just an accident._ Leon’s voice drifted over the dark waters, despondent.

Merlin’s voice was harsh, loud across the lake. _I felt Gwen pass to Avalon. What has happened? She was not supposed to go so quickly! Camelot was not ready for this!_ The anger faded with a sigh of desperation. _Take care of her, then. Gods I miss her. I miss you all. How is Arthur?_

In the pavilion, Gwen greeted Gwaine and Perceval with a hug for each, smiling at them with tears in her eyes. Her face fell when her gaze settled on the bier that held Arthur. Slowly, she walked towards his prone figure. “This is Merlin’s doing, isn’t it?”

Lancelot, who had hung back when she was greeting the knights, stepped forward slightly. “Yes.” He cleared his throat, ducking his head. “I heard him ask Avalon to open its gates for Arthur. The King was on the brink of death when he came here.”

Gwen cupped Arthur’s face, her hand shaking slightly. “Arthur was always lucky to have Merlin.” She brushed her thumb against his cheekbone. “He loved Arthur so much. And Arthur…Arthur loved him.” She withdrew her hand to wipe away the tears that had finally fallen from her eyes. Covering her face for a moment, she breathed deeply. She turned towards the knights with a determined gaze. “How can I help?”


	3. Three

A man stood at the shore, watching. Waiting. His chain mail was dulled by the mist – his pauldron shone in contrast, beads of moisture clinging to the metal, highlighting his shoulders. He stood with one hand resting on his sword hilt, his leather gauntlets folded neatly in his worn belt next to his sword. The other hand hung loosely at his side, sometimes to run over his face in worry, other times to tuck his rich brown hair behind his ear.

A woman stood next to him, watching. Listening. Her bodice and blouse were damp with mist – a vibrant red cape, her brother’s, covered her shoulders. Her hair sparkled with drops of moisture. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, sometimes to tuck stray strands of hair into her loose braid, other times bringing one up to cover her mouth or cup her cheek.

They stood together, watching the lake.

_Camelot is not the same without you_. Leon’s weary voice drifted over the mist.

“He is right, you know.” Guinevere’s voice was so sudden, so _real_ , that Lancelot jumped a little.

Turning towards her, Lancelot’s face was both questioning and troubled. “How, my queen?”

Gwen’s mouth twisted slightly at that phrase. She kept her gaze on the lake, speaking frankly. “You were gone so suddenly. You all were. And there was a hole left in Camelot each time one of you left us.” Her brow furrowed, her words becoming harsh. “A hole that could never be filled, or mended, or patched. Just this…gaping wound that stopped bleeding eventually but would be torn open again and again, because everywhere I looked around Camelot there you would be – there any of you would be.” She was breathing heavily now. “I know why Merlin could never come back to that. We became ghosts, staring at shadows and _wishing_ for them to come back. To speak. To do something, _anything_ , that would fill that hole. I couldn’t have faced it without Perceval and Leon, and even then it was a constant reminder of everyone we had lost. And now –” Her voice broke. “Now Leon walks among ghosts.”

Lancelot, his face contorted into a mixture of grief and guilt, couldn’t take his gaze away from Gwen. He spoke slowly, hesitating at each word. “The choices we all made, though difficult, were honorable. For the greater good.” He swallowed hard, looking down. “I know – I know that it was hard, but I equally know that we left with our hearts heavy. We left with the knowledge that it was the right thing to do. That the people,” his eyes drifted over her face, “The people we left behind were better off.”

At this she turned from the shore and towards him. “You thought I was better off left behind? You left, Lancelot. You left Camelot and Arthur and Merlin. You left me. You didn’t think to ask me to go with you, but I would’ve.” She poked him hard in the chest with her pointer finger. Stalking towards him as he backed away from her. “You may have been forced to leave Camelot but _I would have gone with you_.”

Lancelot, head spinning at where this conversation was going, blinked. “I – I couldn’t have asked you to come with me. You were safer there.” They stopped moving. He stared at her, his insides a hurricane of emotions and confusion. _How had they gotten here?_

“I loved you, Lance. I _loved_ you. And then you left. You didn’t come back until I had mended myself. Until I had fallen for someone else.” She was crying. He hated seeing her cry, but he couldn’t bring himself to hold her. It was a temptation he had to fight.

“He is a far better man than I, Gwen.”

At the sound of her name she froze. She looked towards the hill, the pavilion standing proudly in the distance. “You are both good men. Honorable and true.” Her gaze turned towards him once more. “He loved me. But he loved me all the more because I knew of his love for Merlin and would not hold it against him. We understood each other in that way. He knew I still loved you, but married me despite it.” She sighed softly. “He loved Merlin more than I can say. And he knows I feel the same about you.”

She straightened her hair, wiped the remains of tears from her cheeks, and fussed with the cloak – anything to not look at him. Lancelot stood close by, watching her. “You know, Gwen, your voice was always the one I would hear first.” He smiled softly as he turned towards the lake once more.

“Yours was the only voice that spoke back to me.” Gwen’s voice was small, embarrassed at the admission. She too turned towards the lake. “I expect when Arthur wakes we will speak to him.”

Lancelot nodded in response.

They stood next to each other, the space in between them simultaneously too close and too far, the lake dark but calm. The mist swirled around them.

 

* * *

 

 

_I wish I could’ve gone with you all_. Leon’s voice, wretched in guilt and sorrow.

Time had no meaning on the island, the knights and their lady would change shifts when listening became too much. There was no sunrise or sunset to mark the time, nor seasons to mark the year.

_No, it can never be the same._ Leon’s voice was worn.

The leaves were as green, the trees were as proud, the mist was as heavy, and the sky was as cloudy. Sometimes the knights and their lady spoke of their friends, sometimes they stayed silent.

_I hope it’s soon. I hope I see you all soon…_ Leon’s voice, haggard and heavy.

Never sleeping, never hungry, always waiting.

_Very soon, I hope…_ Leon’s voice was barely a whisper.

Just as green, just as gloomy, never changing into night or day but remaining neither one nor the other.

Hardly a sigh was heard from over the lake.

A shape was seen in the water. Perceval nudged Lancelot, gaze focused on the shadow in the dark water. Lancelot nodded sagely. “He’s finally come.”

A man’s head broke the surface of the calm lake. He walked surely from the water, his head and body bowed by age. Every step he took, however, he stood straighter. His grey/white hair slowly darkened into a strawberry blonde, growing from the clipped close cut to longer locks. The deep lines in his face were slowly being brushed away. His beard shortened, grey fading to reddish blonde. His foggy eyes became clear. His shaking hands became steady.

Sir Leon stood before them, just as they remembered him, tears in his eyes. “It is good to see you, Lancelot.” He grasped Lancelot’s outstretched hand, shaking it firmly before hugging him. Leon turned to Perceval. “Perce, it does my heart good to see you my friend.” He hugged him as well.

“Leon, welcome.” Lancelot smiled, and clasped his friend’s shoulder. “Perce, could you take Leon to Arthur?”

Perceval’s eyes were questioning, but he nodded and led the way up the path.

Lancelot turned back towards the lake, and spoke clearly. “Merlin. We are all here now, to take care of Arthur. Call us when it’s time.”

_I felt his death, Lance. I’m glad he found his way to you. Take care of them all, will you? I…I think this may be the last time we can speak – until Arthur comes back, anyway. I’m not sure._ Merlin’s voice was older, dry. Wise. _I will miss our chats, good friend. You all have kept my spirits up, but now I must face this alone._

“You are not alone, Merlin. We’re here. Remember that, at least.”

_Oh I will._ Merlin hesitated. _Give…give my love to Arthur. With you all there he has a chance to wake soon._

“I will. Goodbye, for now, Merlin.” Unspoken volumes of trust edged every word.

_Goodbye, Lancelot. Gods watch over all of you._

The knight bowed slightly to the lake, then turned from it. He breathed, feeling Merlin’s connection slip away like water through his hands. Lancelot closed his eyes, trying to listen.

Silence.

He nodded to himself, then slowly started walking up the beach, through the meadow, past the glades and the forests, across old temple grounds, ever higher, until he reached the stone pavilion. He took a breath, then walked inside the arches. Everyone turned to greet him. Leon, hand resting on Arthur’s arm, Gwaine and Perceval side by side smiling, Elyan standing at Arthur’s feet, and Guinevere seated on a small chair by Arthur’s side. They all looked at him expectedly. He tried to smile.

“Everyone who was supposed to appear here now has done so. Which means –” he hesitated, “Which means we have no more contact with the outside world, until the time has come for King Arthur to rise again and unite Albion.” Lancelot looked in turn to his friends, wanting it to sink in. Needing it to sink in.

“Now it’s time to wait, and to heal.” Gwen said softly, her voice mellow.

“I suppose we won’t know now what will happen here.” Elyan’s eyes were hard, but his face thoughtful.

“We’ll protect Arthur, and each other. Whatever happens, mate.” A crooked smile grew across Gwaine’s mouth.

“We are together, that’s what matters now.” Perceval rumbled. “No different from any other mission.”

“I’m just glad to have you all at my back again.” Leon smiled warmly.

Lancelot nodded, a smile creeping across his face unintentionally, and nodded. “Together, then.”

“Together.” They all chorused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed this, as much as one can enjoy something that is depressing. Thank you for reading <3


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